A New Tribute
by knb3
Summary: In this fanfic I introduce a new tribute in place of Katniss, Kane Black will take the place of the legendary "girl on fire." This story is what the series would be if Katniss had a different name, family, and district.
1. I Will Survive

Kane Black, that's my name. As the metal cylinder raises me to my almost certain demise, my thoughts race through my head, what if I get killed before the games even start? Like that girl who dropped her token on the plate and was blown up before the gong even sounded? A ray of sunlight almost blinded me as the plate came level with the ground. I glanced around me at the other tributes, who looked ready to sprint at the supplies. The District 1 male tribute was a giant, with big meaty hands and easily reaching 7 feet tall. Even the female tribute looked like she could take down a grizzly bear, she had long stringy black hair and a face full of so much hatred. I couldn't help but feel a small twinge of sympathy for her. Both of the tributes from District 12 were frightfully skinny, even the girl, Katniss I think her name was, looked like she was resigned to her death. The boy had more muscle than Katniss and I put together so he might stand a chance. The rest of them were pretty average, some bulky and some small and light.

A glint of sunlight off of a hatchet caught my eye and I grinned, that was mine. My particular talent was throwing hatchets, well I was from District 7 after all. Time seemed to freeze in the last seconds before the gong sounded, a light breeze ruffling my hair as I take in my surroundings. A large mountain range lay to my right, the tangy smell of pine filling the air. Right in front of us lay a large body of water that smelled really salty and fishy. I wrinkled my nose and looked to my left, a bunch of small, leafy trees filled the space . The last second ticked away and the gong sounded.

Within seconds the rest of them would be running at the Cornacopuia and picking of the weakest ones. I bunched my muscels and sprang from the plate with ease, landing several yards closer to the hatchet. I sprinted the rest of the way, picked up the hatchet and ran with all my might to the moutains, and life.

As I ran I thought of my old home, and my old family. I thought of the accident that had left me with a hole in my shoulder and my father dead. But it hadn't really been an accident had it? I pushed the thoughts away and used the energy to pump my legs faster.


	2. Strange Things Did Happen Here

I wake with a start, almost falling out of my tree. It was finally night time and I was sitting over 40 feet high in a ancient-looking pine, the sharp needles poking tiny holes in my sleeping bag. I groan and slid very carefully out of the bag, rolling it tightly and sliding it into its case. I begin the agonizing climb to the ground, the green needles stabbing my arms and hands through the light green canvas tunic. I jump the last 7 or so feet to the ground and land in a cat-like crouch, with my knees bent and balancing on my toes. I straighten up and pull my deep green velvet cloak from my pack. I slip it on over my backpack and start to trudge through the powdery snow, my light leather boots leaving tiny prints in the snow. I break into a lope that I hope I can maintain and set off on my journey for shelter.

Several hours later I come to the frozen shores of a deep pond. I tap the ice with the tip of my boot to see if it will break. I cautiously put my foot flat and lean onto it. The ice stays strong. I see something glinting silver in the moonlight in the middle of the ice, a tiny package with a parachute attached. I break out into a broad grin and slip my cloak, jacket, and hat off before stepping softly onto the ice. My thoughts were that if my mentor sent me something, the ice is safe right? He wouldn't want me dead right? I step hesitantly forward and then my steps become more confident. Suddenly I hear a large crack and the ice below me gives way.

Everything after that seems to be in slow-motion, I feel as if I'm watching the scene from far away. I watch myself fall through the ice feet-first, my bright green eyes full of hopelessness. I'm shocked out of my reverie by my lungs fighting for air, my whole body going on hyper drive and my feet kicking expertely to the surface. My hands burst out of the water, scrabbling for a handhold. I feel a stabbing pain in my leg and immediatly start to feel woozy. My vision starts to fade, along with any strength I had left. My grip on the ice loosens and my hands slip from their hold. My head slips under the icey water and the last thing I see is my big brother staring down at me with fearful eyes. The last thing I hear is the beginning of a song my father taught me.

"Are you, are you. Coming to the tree?"


	3. Confusion

I rolled over and groaned softly, curling my knees up to my chest. "Rough night?" A deep male voice said from my left. Within seconds I'm out of the sleeping bag and scrambling to my feet, reaching for a knife that was not there. "You might wanna keep off tha-" He cuts off and jumps up as I cry out in pain and my leg gives out. Meaty arms grabbed me seconds before I hit the ground, setting me gently down on a boulder. "Wh-Who are you?" I blurt out, trying to back up. A shot of burning pain shooting up my leg puts a halt to my futile retreat. "And what happened to my leg?" I snap, staring up at this boy. "I'm the District 6 male tribute, My name is Adam." He said. "And as for your leg, well you got bit by a Jellyfang." He chuckled. "A what?" I snapped, not happy that he was laughing at me. "A mutt made by the Capitol to cut off our food supply during the war, it's a mixture of a jellyfish and a snake. The venom is deadly." He explained. I frowned, narrowing my eyes "So why did you save me?" I growled at him. He shrugged, "You remind me of someone I once knew." He admitted, his voice trailing off. I narrowed my eyes even more, staring at them between slits. I turned and spotted my clothes on a rock next to me. I slipped the cloak and sweater on, painfully pulling my boots on over the bite. I caught a glimpse of the wound and was swept away with a wave of nausia, the skin was pulled tight over a large area of splotchy green skin. Two tiny holes marked where the snake's fangs had pierced the flesh; a clear liquid was oozing out of the holes. I gagged and pulled my pant leg back down.  
>I turned to Adam, hating to have to rely on him "Will you get me something I can use as a crutch?" I ask, swallowing back bile. He nodded, frowning as he examined the trees. I watched him closely, finally taking the time to take a closer look. He had a scruffy head of golden blonde hair, almost luminous in the sunlight. He lifted a slender-fingered hand to brush a particularly long piece of hair behind his ear. Now that I had bothered to look, I noticed that his arms weren't thick and meaty as I originally thought, but thin and wiry. He turned around and my breath just zoomed right out of my lungs. He looked like my brother.<br>Something in my face must've given me away because when he handed me a crudely fashioned wooden crutch his eyes were curious. I struggled to find an explanation but the words that came out of my mouth were soo not the ones I was thinking of. "You're supposed to be dead." I blushed scarlet when he looked at me like I was crazy. "What is that supposed to mean?" He growled, confusion flitting across his features. "I-I thought you were someone else for a moment." I frowned, glancing away. Adam sighed and offered his arm for me to grasp. I reach up and curl my fingers around his forearm, pulling my legs and the makeshift crutch up underneath me. "We might as well get moving, the forest is a better place for you right now." He said gently.  
>As we walked I looked up at him again, examining his features closely. His ice blue eyes were a shade darker than my brother's, his skin slightly paler. His hair was cut slightly more stylishly than my brother's, due to his prep team no doubt. Unlike my brother his chin and cheeks were smooth and pale, like all of the other male tributes. I remember my brother's light stubble snagging my hair the day I was chosen, him looking into my eyes and telling me that I was coming home. Telling me that under no circumstances that I was to die in the arena. I remember staring intensely into his eyes and nodding solemnly, my proclamation of "I will, nothing can stand in my way."<br>The thought brings unwanted tears to my eyes and I brush them away, forcing myself to think other thoughts. "So what are you're talents?" I ask, trying to make small talk. He laughed "Are you really interested?" He said bitterly. "I mean, I'm supposed to be dead right?" Youch, that one stung. I frown and let the silence take over.


End file.
